


Strange Things Did Happen Here

by BlackRoseShiori



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Hunger Games AU, mentor!Gold, tribute!Belle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 14:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18994822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRoseShiori/pseuds/BlackRoseShiori
Summary: Rumbelle Secret Santa fic from 2014.The bit of "The Hanging Tree" that Belle sings is from a different song by the same name. Credit to Marty Robbins. I thought it was more poignant for this particular story.I am so sorry that this feels rushed! I wanted to put in every detail of the interviews and the training and the games…I just didn't have the time. That is, this should be a multi-chapter fic. I hope it's enjoyable, regardless!





	Strange Things Did Happen Here

When Belle French volunteered for the Hunger Games in place of her best friend, Ariel, Andrew Gold thought she was nuts. Or maybe suicidal.

Either way, she would be representing their District in the games, and he would have to mentor her. Nuts or not, he had a role to play.

Even if you got to leave the games alive, they never quite left you.

 

* * *

 

Gold thought that Belle would be some waif of a girl with a death wish, but when they met, he was surprised to find that she was so much more.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her over some sweet rolls on the train to the Capitol.

"Do what?" she asked, her voice sweetly accented and her striking blue eyes looking deep into his brown ones.

"Volunteer," he clarified. "That other girl wasn't even family."

"She is," Belle said, very seriously. "She's the closest thing to it, anyway. Besides, Ariel is only sixteen and I'm eighteen. It gives her a better chance if I take this year…that's one less year of reaping she has to go through. Ariel is too gentle for the Games."

"And you're not?" Gold asked, taking a swig of something strong and filled with alcohol.

"I'm not…" Belle began, then stopped and considered her words. Her eyebrows knit together in concentration.

"I'm not…not gentle," Belle stated, awkwardly. "But I'm smart. Smarter than anyone else I know. I love books, and I think I can survive."

Gold frowned and said, "You're not gonna survive by throwing books at their heads. Your competitors saw what you did during the reaping, and they're gonna want you dead. You're popular now, did you know that? The Capitol is spinning you as the brave bookworm…the only person outside of a career district to ever volunteer."

"Is that what you think of me?" Belle asked, legitimately curious.

Gold opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by the male tribute from their District swaggering into their train car.

Flopping down on a nearby chair, Killian Jones shoved a roll into his mouth and looked at Gold and then Belle.

"Did I interrupt something? Blue-eyes and the imp of District 7 getting cozy?" He said with a mouth full of bread, making his accent even thicker.

Gold jumped to his feet, as quickly as he could with his limp, and seethed at Jones.

"Don't you EVER call me that," he growled through his teeth.

Jones just gave him a languid smile and kept chewing.

Gold sat back down and Belle finally asked the one thing he had actually been dreading.

"Do you have any advice for us?" she asked.

"Yeah," Gold said, taking another swig of his beverage. "Stay alive."

 

* * *

 

When Killian brought her the tape of the games that Gold had won, Belle was filled with trepidation.

He was twenty years her senior, so watching his struggle…the things he'd had to do to stay alive…almost felt like an invasion of privacy.

But, like with most things, Belle's curiosity won out.

She put in the tape and sat back with the controller so that she'd be able to skip the more gory parts.

Finally, it was down to Gold and a girl from District 12.

His right ankle had been decimated by a falling tree, so he crawled away from the girl as fast as he could. She was able-bodied and looked to be the easy winner.

But then, just as she pounced with a machete, Gold rolled over to face her with a sharpened stick held straight up. The girl impaled herself, spilling blood all over Gold.

It had been the stick he'd used for walking since his ankle had been broken. He'd whittled one end down in the night, with such stealth that Belle felt she must have accidentally missed it.

"Is it everything you'd hoped?"

Belle spun with a gasp to see Gold standing in the doorway.

"I just…" she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"it's fine," he said, limping into her room with his gold-handled cane. "You have every right to know what the games are really like. They're barbaric. I know you've watched them your entire life, but do you feel any different now that it's you?"

"Yes, of course," Belle said, very quietly. "I don't want to die. I didn't volunteer to die. I volunteered so that my friend could live. I intend to do whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes," Gold repeated. "I do love it when they say that."

Belle sneered at him and bit back, "You could be helping us, you know. We could be going over strategies right now. I shouldn't have had to watch your games this way, having Killian steal the tape and sneak it in to me. Why aren't you helping us?"

"If you really wanted help, you never would have volunteered for the damned thing in the first place!" Gold snapped. "Luckily for you, I help best behind the scenes. Making deals, getting you sponsors. Making you look desirable."

With that, Belle was sure his eyes had wandered down to her lips, but in a split second he was back to looking her in the eye, with both hands draped casually over the handle of his cane. Belle found herself looking at his hands. They looked lean but strong. Those hands had killed people.

"You have a pretty face," Gold conceded, breaking Belle out of her reverie. "That will help you. Jones is a good-looking young man, too. There might be hope for both of you. But if it comes down to it, I need to know that you can do what needs to be done."

"Which is?" Belle asked, transfixed by Gold's entire demeanor and the rasp of his accented voice.

"I need to know that you can kill Killian Jones," Gold said, his eyes looking amber in the dim light of the room.

"I…" Belle stammered "I'm sure it won't be any problem. If it comes down to it."

"And it will," Gold assured her. "It will."

With that, he turned and left the room. Belle watched him go with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the Hunger Games.

 

* * *

 

The Capitol was a whirlwind of training, interviews, and smiling for cameras. Belle was deemed "The Beauty of District 7" and she had no choice but to play along. Sometimes she would catch Gold's eye and he'd look…almost angry, but when she tried to corner him to ask why, he always managed to get away.

It didn't help that when it came time to display their chosen skill set, Belle didn't really have one. She stood before the judges and game makers and had to explain that she could probably outsmart the other tributes.

When that didn't fly, she began to sing.

I came to town to search for gold

And I brought with me a memory

And I seem to hear the night wind cry

Go hang your dreams on the hangin' tree

Your dreams of love that could never be

Hang your faded dreams on the hangin' tree…

Her voice had mesmerized the crowd, though she knew it was a fleeting talent.

"Thank you, Ms. French," the head game maker, August Booth, called down.

When their scores were released that evening, Gold joined them to watch. She hadn't had a chance to tell him of her failure at showcasing a useful talent, but it wouldn't have mattered, anyway, since Killian hadn't been able to shut up about how he'd picked Booth's pocket from yards away.

"A right good pirate I am!" Jones was saying to anyone who would listen. Belle could smell the rum on his breath.

"You're not a pirate if you don't have a ship!" Belle finally snapped at him. "If you don't have a ship, you're just a thief."

Jones ignored her.

When they got to the scoring for District 7, Belle held her breath. Jones received a score of 10.

Belle received a score of 11.

"Bloody hell!" Killian exclaimed. "How did she beat me? Make eyes at Booth, did ya?"

Belle opened her mouth to tell Killian where he could shove his attitude, but Gold beat her to it.

Moving faster than any man with a limp had the right to, Gold was suddenly in front of Jones, hauling him up by the front of his shirt.

"Apologize to the lady," Gold snarled at him.

"Sorry!" Killian said, just as shocked as Belle at the sudden change in Gold's demeanor. "I was just joking!"

"Gold," Belle said, gently. "It's alright. Please let him go."

Gold did as she asked, but still looked at Jones as if he were a bug to be squashed.

"Your stylist will be here in the morning," was the last thing Gold said before letting himself out. Belle sighed, frustrated by her mentor.

Frustrated, but also fascinated.

 

* * *

 

Jefferson Hatter was an eccentric, to be sure.

"Your face," he assured Belle, "is a work of art. Your eyes are my new muse."

He then looked down at her chest and heaved a sigh. "Not much to work with here, but we'll make due. The Modest Beauty, I think. Nothing that shows too much cleavage. Leave a bit to the imagination."

With that, he clapped his hands and his assistants began fluttering all around Belle like a bunch of mockingjays.

They were about to be paraded out for their interviews with long-time Capitol personality, David Nolan. He was a mindless twit that believed everything President Mills told him. Gold was friendly with him, if only on a shallow level.

"Why do you like him?" Belle dared to ask Gold before she went on. "You hardly like anyone."

"That's not something you need to concern yourself with," he told her. "Right now, you need to think about being pretty and likable."

"I don't know how to be likable," Belle admitted.

Gold smiled at that. "Just be yourself."

And then he gently shoved her onto the stage.

She wore a dress of gold satin. There was embroidery and beadwork on the front, and on the sleeves which sat just off her shoulders. The bodice was tight, and she began to worry that she would pass out from lack of air. Jefferson assured her, however, that it made her waist look amazing, and her almost non-existent cleavage actually noticeable. A simple necklace, a single pearl, sat at her throat. Her chestnut hair was pulled back and softly curled, putting her face on display.

She sat down in the chair next to Nolan, very carefully.

"Now, Belle…may I call you Belle?" he asked with a somewhat goofy smile.

"It is my name," she said.

"Belle," Nolan went on as if she hadn't spoken, "You're from District 7…you provide lumber to the Capital for building and for making paper. Yet I see nothing that symbolizes your District. Was that at your request, or your stylist's choice?"

Belle stared out into the audience and saw Jefferson. He gave her a double thumbs-up.

"My stylist and I both feel that I don't need to express my District through my clothes. I just wanted to look nice for all of the people watching tonight. The truth is, my favorite part of my District is already a part of me. You said it yourself…we make paper. Which means we make books. And books are my favorite things."

Nolan gave a hearty laugh and looked out into the audience, "A beauty with a brain! Wonderful! She really is the full package!"

The audience applauded as Belle finished her interview and left the stage.

"You did well," Gold said as soon as she was backstage.

With that, it was Killian's turn.

"Hopefully he makes an ass of himself," Gold muttered, and Belle gave him a playful smack on the arm for being rude.

"You're a fine looking lad," Nolan was saying to Killian. "If you win the games, you'll have to beat the girls off with a stick!"

"Actually," Killian said. "There's a problem with that."

"Oh?" Nolan said, leaning in closer.

"You see," Killian went on, "There is only one girl I'm interested in. And she came here with me."

The audience gasped. Belle's mouth dropped open. Gold looked ready to rush the stage and throttle Jones.

"That's too bad," Nolan was saying. Killian simply nodded. Then he ended his interview.

As soon as he was backstage, Gold was upon him.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he growled. "You've sentenced Belle to a role she has to play throughout the entire games!"

"Back off, mate," Jones said, pushing Gold. "You think I don't see how you look at her? Between the two of us, she was the one more likely to walk out of that arena alive. I was just giving myself my best chance!"

Belle walked over to the two of them, looking more sad than anything.

"Killian," she said, quietly. "What will Emma think?"

At the name of his love, Killian stiffened.

"Doesn't matter what she thinks," he finally said. "She'd want me to survive. And to survive, I need you."

 

* * *

 

"This is it," Gold said, unnecessarily.

Belle's hands were shaking as they neared the hovercraft that would take the tributes to the secret arena.

"Remember," Gold went on in the wake of Belle's silence. "You and Jones…you're star-crossed lovers. It'll be a fine tale. All eyes will be on you, and that's what you want…"

He was cut off when Belle leaned up and placed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

When she drew back, Gold's eyes were still closed and his brows were furrowed. He finally opened his eyes, looking at Belle as if she wasn't even real.

"I'll play my part," she assured him. "I'll win. Because, for the first time in a long time, I don't just want to survive…I want to live."

With that, she turned and got on the plane.

 

* * *

 

Belle and Killian were both doing very well. They were popular among the vast majority of people, and it was easy for Gold to strike deals with rich sponsors.

They were sent parachutes of bread, soup, medicine…anything they needed, really.

And with each package was a note from Gold. He knew he had to be subtle, because Belle and Jones were still playing the game. But she had to know how he felt about her.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted to live, too.

 

* * *

 

It was down to four. Belle still held the axe she had acquired from the hands of a dead tribute. Killian had a thick vine that he had been able to use as a garrote. They had played at being lovers, and they had played it well.

The last two tributes from District 2 faced off against them. It was unprecedented that four tributes, two each from the same Districts, would still be alive by the end. But Greg and Tamara were careers. They had trained for the games since they could walk.

Belle's grip tightened on her axe. She would need to run, because Tamara had a bow. She'd only be able to take out one of them at a time, but she'd be able to do it from a great distance. Greg wasn't as much of a threat unless it came down to hand-to-hand combat.

Belle dared a glance at Killian from the corner of her eye.

He was gone.

That's when she felt the garrote choking her.

"Killian," she rasped, "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get home to Emma," he said from behind her, directly into her right ear. "Only one of us can leave this arena, and I promised her I'd come home."

"I made a promise too," Belle said, gasping for air. "I promised to stay alive."

With that, she kicked backwards into Killian's crotch, sending him bending at the waist in pain.

Belle looked up at where the cameras were surely focused on the fight between the so-called lovers of District 7.

"Emma!" Belle called up into the sky as Greg and Tamara simply watched with interest. "I'm so, so sorry!"

Then she spun with her axe and took Killian's left hand.

He dropped his garrote, clutching at the amputated limb.

Belle came down once more, planting her axe directly into Killian's skull.

A cannon went off in the distance.

Their ruse was over.

 

* * *

 

Belle had taken off into the woods after killing Jones. Tears blinded her, because she knew she had just lost a friend forever. She had no love for Killian Jones, but his real girlfriend back home in District 7, Emma Swan, would never be able to forgive her.

Then again, knowing Emma as she did, she didn't think that the other girl would have approved of Jones turning on her in the end like that.

Still, as Belle ran from Greg and Tamara, she felt filthy. Her entire soul was dirtied, and would never be clean again. She had killed, and done it close up. She'd seen his eyes.

Gold.

Now she understood Gold so much better than she had before.

Every note he'd sent her in the games were safe in her back pockets. If she left the arena alive, the first thing she would do would be to tell him how she felt about him. The truth was, she'd been watching him mentor other tributes for her entire life. She had watched how he stood straight and proud on the stage every year during the reaping, with his hands folded over the top of his cane. She had seen the power in his stance and in his eyes.

She had seen him out and about from time-to-time…and she had fallen in love with him.

And now, with the precious notes she carried with her, she was sure he felt the same.

 

* * *

 

Belle had climbed the tree well before she noticed the tracker jacker hive.

The insects had a lethal sting. Just a couple of strings from them would send you into a hallucinogenic episode. More than that, you'd probably be dead.

Greg and Tamara had seen her climb the tree. Tamara tried shooting arrows at her, but she was terrible with the bow, which actually made Belle smile. No threat there. And neither of them had lived around trees for their entire lives, so they couldn't climb up after her. She'd been climbing since before she could walk.

She couldn't stay in the tree forever, though. That's when she hatched her plan.

Greg and Tamara actually fell asleep right underneath the tracker jacker hive. Belle was sure they'd meant to stay awake so that they could ambush her if she came down, but the games were tiring for everyone.

Belle slowly climbed out onto the branch with the hive, being careful not to disturb the insects.

She still carried her axe. Holding onto the branch with one hand, she quickly swiped at the nest and it went plummeting down onto the tributes below.

As Belle clung to the branch for dear life, she heard Greg and Tamara's screams.

The insects took their aggressions out on Belle's two remaining enemies. There would be no counting the number of strings they each received.

When it was over, Belle climbed down. She tried not to look at the swollen corpses of Greg and Tamara as she made her way back to the center of the arena.

Two cannons went off in the distance.

August Booth's voice came over on a loud speaker, reverberating through the entire arena.

"And the winner of the 54th Hunger Games is Belle French from District 7!"

She had kept her promise to Gold.

But at the cost of her humanity.

 

* * *

 

Back on the train, Belle refused to leave her room.

Gold took it upon himself to let himself in, and perched at the edge of her bed.

"Belle, please," he begged, "You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled into her pillow.

With a sigh, Gold began to rise, but Belle pulled him back down.

"Stay with me," she said, and finally looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Always," Gold said, climbing into the bed with her.

It started with chaste kisses and touches, but Belle needed more. She needed to feel alive.

When she began unbuttoning Gold's shirt, he stopped her with a gentle touch and asked, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes," Belle said, instantly. "It's the one thing I am sure of."

After that, there were no more words between them. Soon enough, there was nothing between them at all.

Belle felt safe, skin-against-skin, with Gold. He lay atop her, but it wasn't predatory or suffocating. She felt protected by love.

When he entered her, he stroked her hair and whispered words of encouragement through the uncomfortable sensation. But she was so wet and ready for him, the discomfort didn't last for long.

"Please, do something," she whispered. That's when Gold began to move.

He thrust gently at first, then picked up speed at the sound of Belle's appreciative moans.

"Faster," she begged, and he obliged.

"Belle," Gold said, a bit breathlessly, "I won't last much longer. Please, let me see your eyes."

Belle hadn't even realized she'd had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, wanting nothing to interfere with the sensation of Gold making love to her.

She opened them for him, and as they looked at each other, they both toppled over the edge.

Gold pulled out just as he came, spilling his seed all over her thighs and the bed sheets.

Belle arched a bit off the bed as her orgasm hit. She nearly came again at the sight of Gold's essence glistening on her skin.

"Why did you do that?" she asked him after she caught her breath.

"Because I…" He stopped, looked at her shining blue eyes, and then finally made an admission he had never made to another soul.

"There are few still alive who remember, but I had a young son. After winning my games at the age of 17, I settled down in the Victor's Village and started a family. This was so many years ago now, it's hard to talk about. I took a wife, a local woman named Milah. But she never loved me. She just wanted to be married to a victor. She eventually left with our son. I went after them, but I'm lame…my ankle never healed properly after my games. She had heard a rumor that District 13 was a safe haven, that it was never really destroyed during the Dark Days. But even though we were at peace with the Capitol, the moment she tried to leave District 7, holding little Baelfire in her arms, she was shot down. And so was he."

Silent tears had begun to flow down Belle's cheeks as she listened to the terrible story.

"So you see," Gold continued, looking down at the evidence of their lovemaking, "I can't have another child. I can't. Because they take away everything you love. They take it away to hurt you."

"But I love you," Belle confessed. "We're both victors now. Surely they can't…"

"They CAN!" Gold said, his eyes turning glassy as he looked down at her. Her chestnut hair pooled upon a while pillow like dried blood.

"They go after the people you love," he said again. "This train ride…it never ends. You're a mentor now. Every year they're gonna pull us back out, again and again until we're dead."

"Let them," Belle said, leaning up to kiss him.

As she pulled back, she placed a gentle hand upon his cheek and said, "I think this is worth it. Don't you?"

Gold hesitated for just a moment before saying, "Aye."


End file.
